


A Lover To Burn

by fourthlinefic (XylophoneCat)



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Dysfunctional Relationships, M/M, Other: See Story Notes, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 04:29:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16033010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XylophoneCat/pseuds/fourthlinefic
Summary: Zhenya didn't know how they'd ended up here. Well, he did, he was just amazed that he hadn't seen it coming. He knew about Sidney Crosby, knew what people said about him. Even Sasha had tried to warn him, but Zhenya was too much of a sucker for a pair of pretty brown eyes (and an even prettier mouth) to listen.Geno is a hopeless romantic. Sid is easy. It gets messy.





	A Lover To Burn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Northisnotup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Northisnotup/gifts).



> North - I love you and I'm sorry.
> 
> Inspired by Ed Sheeran's 'Don't', and my own desire for Maximum Angst.
> 
> There is kind of cheating in this fic, however, due to the nature of Sid and Geno's relationship, it's kind of ambiguous as to if cheating is what actually happens. If you really can't deal with that, I would suggest that this is not the fic for you.

Zhenya didn't know how they'd ended up here. Well, he did, he was just amazed that he hadn't seen it coming. He knew about Sidney Crosby, knew what people said about him. Even Sasha had tried to warn him, but Zhenya was too much of a sucker for a pair of pretty brown eyes (and an even prettier mouth) to listen. 

“I don't know what you want me to say, G,” Sid said. He was stood with his back against the hotel room door, arms crossed defensively across his chest. “It's not like we were ever exclusive.”

Zhenya had to clench his jaw tight to stop himself from snapping. He snatched a pile of clothes from the floor, a jumble of shirts and worn underwear, and tossed them into his suitcase. He could see one of Sid's shirts caught up in the mess. Black with a stylised Canadiens logo on the front. He didn't move to take it out. Maybe he'd burn it.

The thing was, Sid was right. When you don't make a promise to someone, there's nothing to break. At least that was the theory. Zhenya couldn't help but feel that there was something more, something different between them. But he couldn't get the image of Sid, curled into another man, pressed against the wall of the hotel corridor, out of his head. In his mind he replayed the conversation he'd had with Sasha at the start of this all, trying to drown the image out.

* * *

“He's no good, Zhenya,” Sasha had said. He'd been back in Moscow playing the rave circuits, and his voice crackled over the bad connection. "Sidney Crosby picks up and drops men like you or I play cards.”

"You mean badly, then?"

"Fuck you, you couldn't bluff to save your life," Sasha sniffed, but even down the shit line, Zhenya could still hear laughter in his voice. "And no, not badly at all. He takes what he wants, drops what he doesn't want. He's not a bad guy, just careless."

"You speaking from experience?"

"Maybe. But my heart isn't all soft and squishy like yours. He'll hurt you, Zhenya."

So Zhenya knew about Sidney Crosby. Knew all about the trail of pining hearts left behind him. So he should have known better that night. But the way that Sid was grinding up against him made it hard to remember all the reasons why sleeping with him was a bad idea. 

Zhenya always got riled up after a set, the thud of the bass in his chest, the twisting bodies in front of him, swaying and cresting like a tide drawn in by his gravity. It was intoxicating, having that kind of power over people, and it was intoxicating having Sid lean into him, smile flashing white under the neon strobes.

One of Sid's hands was up his shirt, the other shoved down the back pocket of Zhenya's jeans, gripping his ass through the denim. Zhenya's arm was around Sid's shoulders, locking him against his chest, anchoring them to each other in the crushing sea of bodies around them.

"Want to take me home?" Sid asked. Yelled really, his voice only just audible above the music, even pressed up against Zhenya like he was.

Zhenya, God help him, nodded. Let Sid reel him in with clever hands and biting kisses. When he finally (finally!) let Zhenya push him down into the sheets, Sid arched back up into him, his mouth hard and demanding.

“Fuck me, Geno,” he gasped, breath hot against Zhenya's neck. His cock was hard and leaking against Zhenya's thigh, and he was rolling his hips in tight thrusts, trying to relieve some of that desperate arousal. “C'mon, baby, I wanna feel you.”

Sid kept up this impatient commentary as Zhenya fingered him open, only shutting up when Zhenya pressed hard against Sid's prostate. His hands flew out to bite into Zhenya's shoulders, his back bowing in a tight arch and with anyone else, Zhenya would have felt a little cruel. But Sid just thrust down hard against the feeling, letting Zhenya bully sensation from him.

“Jesus, G,” he hissed, petering off into a whine when Zhenya pulled his fingers from him. Zhenya just coaxed another kiss from him, before hitching Sid's legs up around his waist and pushing in. “Come the fuck on,” Sid breathed at the slow push and drag he set, refusing to give what he knew Sid so desperately wanted.

“Should be more patient,” Zhenya said, hoping his voice didn't give away how badly he wanted it too. 

“Fuck patient.”

When Sid came, he pressed his nails so hard into Zhenya's shoulders, Zhenya was sure he had drawn blood. But Sid just urged him on with bitten off gasps, letting Zhenya use his body until they were both boneless and breathless.

“Stay?” Zhenya asked, his voice muffled against Sid's skin. He traced his fingertips around the outline of Sid's collar bone, tasted the salt that clung there. He drew lines up the side of Sid's neck with the tip of his nose, and felt Sid sigh against his hair.

“You know I'm not staying,” he said, running his hands through Zhenya's hair before giving it a tug. Zhenya left one last gentle bite against Sid’s collar bone before he rolled off him. The sounds of Sid moving around his room lulled him to sleep, and when he woke the next morning with the sun in his eyes, Sid was gone.

* * *

And then Zhenya was on tour, two months of dates across Europe, going from London raves, to the Paris house scene, to the clubs of Berlin. He met with Sasha in Rome for a few shows together, getting high enough and drunk enough to completely erase any lingering thoughts Zhenya might have had of Sidney Crosby. 

“You back in America after this?” Sasha asked.

“Yeah, New York first then back to LA.” Zhenya rolled over onto his front where he was lying on the hotel bed, his feet up against the headboard. He stretched out like a cat, enjoying the feel of soft cotton and sunlight against his naked body. Europe had that kind of effect on him, made it feel acceptable to just wander around in nothing but a bedsheet until noon.

Sasha was sat by the open balcony doors, his face tilted up into the sun. A lit cigarette dangled from his lax fingers, although he kept it outside to stop Zhenya from whining. Zhenya watched him through narrowed eyes, how the soft July breeze stirred his prematurely grey hair. He let his eyes drag over Sasha's body, across his broad chest, his stomach that was going soft around the edges. The line of hair that trailed under his boxers. Strong thighs.

“Stop staring,” Sasha muttered.

“How do you know I'm staring?”

Sasha cracked one eye open and looked at Zhenya. “I can see you. And I can feel your beady little eyes.”

“Fuck you.” Zhenya grabbed one of the pillows from the pile on the floor and tossed it at Sasha's head. It missed, but the intention was there.

“Not what you were saying earlier,” Sasha said, looking impossibly smug. “Didn't it go more like, 'fuck me, Sasha, fuck me’?”

“See if I ever let you fuck me again,” Zhenya grumbled. He had to bite down on the insides of his cheeks to stop himself from laughing at Sasha's pout, but it was a battle doomed from the start. Sasha was too easy to tease, and Zhenya couldn’t help but laugh at his face. When Sasha’s face turned more hurt than pouty, Zhenya sighed and pulled himself from the bed. 

He took the thin bed sheet with him, wrapping it around his shoulders like a cape, and deposited himself into Sasha’s lap. “You should stop giving it if you can’t take it,” he said, smoothing Sasha’s hair back from his forehead. Sasha’s hand was unresisting when he took the still smouldering cigarette from his fingers. He stubbed it out in the ashtray by Sasha’s elbow. When he kissed Sasha, he tasted like ash.

“But I’m so good at giving,” Sasha said against his mouth. Zhenya bit him. Apology kisses quickly turned into a wrestling match, which would have turned into fucking on the balcony, except Zhenya had slightly more self respect than that. They at least made it as far as the rug.

* * *

Chicago was so far from Rome. A long way from sun warmed skin and clean linen sheets. It had rained almost non stop for the last two days, and Zhenya found himself wishing for those lightning blue skies. Instead he had bruised looking clouds, and an ache in his chest when he finally zipped up the last of his bags.

There was a standoff at the door when Sid refused to move. Zhenya stared down at him and Sid looked right back. Zhenya grabbed the door handle.

“Sid. Move.”

“Where are you going, Geno?” Sid said. His hand hovered for a second before closing around Zhenya's forearm. Zhenya wanted to shake him off, but his entire being leaned towards Sid, craved his touch. When Sid cupped his other hand round the curve of Zhenya's neck, it was all he could do to sigh and give up then and there.

“I have to go,” he said, but it felt like he was saying the words through treacle. “You're no good for me. This city no good right now.”

“Don’t go. Please. Don't.” Sid's hand moved to his cheek, pressing to try and get Zhenya to look at him. Confronted with the reality of Zhenya leaving, his blasé attitude to this whole mess was starting to crumble, and Zhenya could hear what was almost panic tinting his words. He closed his eyes, wishing he could block his ears as well.

“I can't do this, Sid. Don't know what you want, don't know what I can have. You kill me.”

“You can have me, G. I-”

“Don't.”

* * *

“I love you.”

The words were muffled by Zhenya's countertop, but they still rang loud in the quiet left behind by the coffee machine. Zhenya laughed and ruffled Sid's hair, smiling wider at the disgruntled grumble it drew.

“I know, I know. I'm best,” he said as he sat himself up on the stool next to Sid. “But if you learn how to use it yourself, you get coffee lot faster.”

Sid groaned against the granite, and Zhenya gave in to the temptation to run his fingers through the silky curls at the nape of Sid's neck. He'd had a hard time keeping his hands off Sid ever since he had barged his way back into his life. Clutching pizza and gin and wearing a grin that knew exactly how welcome he was, Sid had turned up on his doorstep one morning and had never really left. It was easy to fall back into bed again, but somehow easier to just let Sid into his space. He found he liked looking up to see Sid curled up at the other end of the couch, or rummaging through his fridge, or stretched cat-like across the foot of his bed. 

Sid was certainly like a cat in his comings and goings. Here one minute and gone the next, Zhenya suspected that his affections were spread far and wide. But Sid always seemed to find his way back into his bed, and Zhenya always welcomed him back with open arms. As the months progressed and Sid showed no signs of disappearing, Zhenya started giving himself permission to hope the smallest of hopes that this could be something more than just sex.

It was a little bit like being in love, he thought as he wrapped a curl around his finger and Sid blinked sleepily up at him. 

“Hey,” he said, so soft that Zhenya's heart ached with it.

“Drink your coffee,” Zhenya told him. “Put so much effort into make it for you.”

The look that Sid gave him was so fond that Zhenya couldn't trust himself to speak for a second. Sid was easy with his affection, using 'I love you's where other people would just say 'thank you’. Kisses were used as full-stops, the brush of his fingertips ellipses leading on to something more. Zhenya knew that if he ever said 'I love you', it would be the bare truth and he didn't know how Sid would react to that. So he kept his mouth shut.

“You turned the machine on,” Sid said as he straightened up and pulled his mug towards himself. He took a sip and hummed, small and pleased. “That's not really effort.”

“More effort than you make”, Zhenya retorted, and Sid's laughter flooded the kitchen.

“I made the effort to get up to see you off.” Sid leaned hard into Zhenya's side, feigning exhaustion, sniggered when Zhenya dragged him down into a headlock. He held him there, peppered a row of kisses down the side of Sid's face before letting him go. Sid stayed where he was, warm pressure against Zhenya. “I don't want you to go.”

“Have to. People pay good money to see this,” Zhenya said, gesturing an expressive hand at his face. “You have shows to play too.”

“Yeah, those thousands of adoring fans won't entertain themselves. Do you I have time to blow you before your car gets here?”

It turned out they did have time, and Zhenya could taste himself still in Sid's mouth when he pulled him in for a parting kiss. Sid waggled his fingers at him from the doorway when he turned back for one last look before getting in the car. He was smiling, small and sly, and Zhenya held that smile with him all the way to the airport.

* * *

Looking back on that morning, everything seemed distorted. Like looking at it through water, or frosted glass; Zhenya could see the shapes of him and Sid together, but the memory was all jumbled. Meaningless. 

“G, I really do love you.”

Zhenya let out a sigh that was just a shade too close to a sob. Sid's hand tightened on his arm, and when he looked at him, his eyes were bright and wet. Zhenya watched in horror as a tear broke through the barrier of his lashes and slid down his cheek. 

“Don't say like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you sorry. Like you apologise for something. You don't mean it.”

“Of course I-”

“Didn't mean it all those other times.”

Sid's mouth snapped shut, his teeth clicking with the force. He pulled his hands back from Zhenya as if he were suddenly too hot to touch. “That's not fair,” he practically whispered.

“Is not fair?” Zhenya felt a sudden blaze of anger at Sid, and he smacked his hand flat against the wood by Sid's head. “Let me tell you not fair, Sid. Not fair is you worm way into my life, twist me round, make me love you, then go sleep with another man. Now when I walk away from you, now is when you say you mean it. That is not fair Sid.”

Silence bloomed between them. Sid's tongue flicked out to lick a tear from his lips.  
Zhenya's hand was still on the door handle and he turned it pointedly. This time Sid moved out of the way. Zhenya opened the door, the fluorescent light from the corridor spilling into the dim room. Down the corridor, a drunk couple were giggling together as they struggled to get the key card into the slot. Zhenya wondered if they loved each other.

“Please, G.”

Zhenya looked back at Sid, stood by the open door. The tears were flowing freely now, thick and fast. Sid's lips were salty when Zhenya kissed him for the last time.

“I love you,” Zhenya said. And he really was sorry for it.

**Author's Note:**

> Remember, kids: always communicate properly with your partner(s)!
> 
> I'm on Tumblr @forthlinefic - come say hi!


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